


wedded to his work

by glasscannon



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: 2.05, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene, Pining, Unrequited Love, spoilers through the end of 2.05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasscannon/pseuds/glasscannon
Summary: “She asked after you,” Ross says, as they take their noon meal in the sunshine outside the mine.“Who d— You cannot mean Caroline?” Dwight asks in return, turning to look at his friend.(In which Ross and Dwight gossip over lunch like teenaged girls.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fuckyeahdwightcaroline's Carolight Fic Week on Tumblr, day 5: Carolight with their friends/enemies. This is set in 2.05 after Caroline and Unwin's engagement party, and before Caroline comes to apologize to Dwight, in case the timing is unclear. I thought the repeated use of this phrase from both Ross and Dwight in that episode was interesting, in particular.
> 
> And also because I cannot resist Ross's troll face. ;D

“She asked after you,” Ross says, as they take their noon meal in the sunshine outside the mine.

“Who d— You cannot mean Caroline?” Dwight asks in return, turning to look at his friend. Though he would not admit to it aloud, through the course of the morning he has thought of little other than the engagement party that had taken place at Killewarren the previous evening – to which Ross had been invited and he most decidedly had not.

“Indeed,” Ross replies, his voice even and mild, but there is a hint of mischief in his eyes that Dwight doesn’t understand. “The only conversation of any consequence I had with the lady all evening.”

Dwight takes a moment to digest this information. “What did she say?” he asks. “Exactly?”

“She asked after your wellbeing, as I said, to which I replied that you were well. Wedded to your work, no time for distractions, but would wish her well on the occasion of her engagement.”

Dwight looks down at his lunch for a moment of composure before replying. “And I do.”

“Which would be _such_ a shame,” Ross replies, speaking slowly as the mischief in his eyes begins to color his tone in ways familiar to Dwight, though as yet unexplained, “given that the lady… is not engaged.”

He is quite sure he’ll have a crick in his neck for days from how quickly he turns to look at Ross, shock suffusing him. “No?” is the only question he manages to voice.

“No,” Ross agrees, shaking his head and clearly trying to suppress a smile. “When the time came to announce her engagement, Unwin Trevaunance had apparently quit the premises.”

“He jilted her?” Dwight asks, feeling unreasonably offended on Caroline Penvenen’s behalf.

“That will be the generally accepted story, yes,” the other man says mildly, grin barely contained.

“What do you mean?”

“Only that I took in some air after dinner and happened to overhear the two of them talking in the garden,” Ross says. “And Unwin Trevaunance most certainly was _not_ the one doing the jilting.”

Dwight is aware that this concept is taking an inordinately long time to take root in his mind, but cannot stop himself from asking, “Caroline turned him down?”

“Precisely so,” Ross says around a mouthful of his lunch. “Though he begged her to reconsider.”

“Is her uncle much displeased?” Dwight asks after a long moment.

“Oh, I expect so. Ray Penvenen and I are of a mind when it comes to entertaining. Were I he, I would be put out at the loss of a quiet evening alone, if nothing else.”

“And… Miss Penvenen,” Dwight says, reminding himself of her polite form of address, “is she—alright? For this to fall apart so publicly…”

“Rarely have I seen _Miss_ Penvenen more pleased with herself, I must say,” Ross answers. “Whatever her uncle’s preferences, it seems she will have her way in this. At any rate, I thought you should know.”

“I will admit, I did not think Unwin Trevaunance worthy of her. Though why you should think to connect this to me…” Dwight says, shaking his head.

“Strange, that is exactly what I said to Miss Penvenen, when she asked if I would count _her_ among your distractions.”

That damnable muscle in his neck will be sore for a week, wrenching again as he swings around to look at Ross’s smirking visage. “Now you are teasing me, sir, she could have said no such thing.”

“Oh no, it’s true!” Ross maintains, his look of innocence somewhat spoiled by the broad grin on his face. “And not two minutes after Trevaunance had brushed past me on his way to the stables.”

“Ross,” he says, a plea for the other man to drop the charade, should there be one. “You must tell me what she said, _precisely_.”

“Oh well let me see now,” Ross replies, making a show of brushing the crumbs from his hands. “We exchanged pleasantries, and then she asked ‘How is your friend Doctor Enys?’ To which I said—”

“‘Wedded to his work,’” Dwight repeats for him, pinching the bridge of his nose and feeling an intense hatred for the phrase.

“Just so. ‘Wedded to his work, no time for distractions,’” Ross continues. “And then she graced me with—well, the sort of smile I expect Unwin Trevaunance wishes he had seen a few more of, and asked, ‘Would you count me a distraction?’, looking like the cat who drank the last of the cream. And, while she is _nearly_ as transparent in her infatuation as you are, I thought it only polite to reply that I would not _presume_ to connect the two of you in any way.”

“ _Her_ infatuation?” Dwight scoffs. “Ross, I fear you have greatly misread the situation.”

“And yet when I told her you would wish her joy on her engagement, her expression was one of steely resolve I recognize well on Demelza,” Ross says. “Within the hour, she publicly revealed Trevaunance’s flight and the dissolution of their arrangement, all the while looking as though her horse had won the big race. You underrate yourself too much, Dwight. The lady is quite taken with you.”

But Dwight shakes his head, as though trying to clear it. “That is patently untrue, Ross. I encountered her in Truro not two days ago and she was most discourteous to me, jesting that I might turn to the other wealthy ladies of Cornwall for gifts of _oranges_ in her absence, as though I value her fortune over her friendship,” he says, tossing his napkin on to the remains of his lunch with some furor.

Ross is quiet a long moment, his good humor leeching away as he looks out towards the sea. “Or perhaps it was a jest against herself. Women are strange that way, sometimes. Come, I should return to the mine.”


End file.
